


13

by NotanAngel



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Collars, M/M, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Puppy Play, Stockholm Syndrome, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-07
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-19 12:59:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4747349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotanAngel/pseuds/NotanAngel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim is ready to jump off the mortal coil, but Sherlock has other ideas...<br/>Namely making Jim his puppy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	13

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Play the Game](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3927925) by [Giggles96](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Giggles96/pseuds/Giggles96). 



13

"No, you're boring. You're an angel, just a pawn acting like a good pet to your Master's demands...Boooorrrrrrring!!!" Jim drawled, standing in the face of what he once thought was one of the most interesting people alive, Sherlock Holmes. He was obviously wrong though, clearly all that stood in front of him on the roof of Saint Barts Hospital, was a disappointment. The one person that could distract him from the monotony of life turns out to be just another player in the symphony of Dull.  
It made the gun in his back pocket that much more appealing.

"Oh I may be on the side of the Angels, but don't think for one second that I am one of them" 

It was said with such force that if Jim had been in a better state of mind he might have had cause to believe him. As it was, all Jim could do was stare into the last face he'd ever see and do what he had been doing since he was a child. Lie.

"No. You're not are you?" He added a touch of awe to the melodrama of the whole scene. "You're me!"

The look of pure bewilderment on Sherlock's face was priceless, Jim could almost hear the cogs turning in that empty, dull, BORING brain of his. Frustrated and heartbroken with the whole endeavour Jim took a step back, pulled out his gun. And put it to his temple.

"Jim, what are yo-"  
"Thank you Sherlock," he interrupted "for helping me see that I was never meant to be in this world." Jim gave the detective a small smile, a glimpse past the Mask of Moriarty that he had donned for so many years. The look made Sherlock gasp.

"Jim stop! John is-"  
"Oh your little pet is safe Sherlock! Look calling off the assassins now!" With his free hand he texted the killers to stand down. No point killing a simpletons family, especially if Jim wasn't going to be around to witness the repercussions. 

"Consider it a parting gift, one genius to another" it almost hurt him to say those words, not only were they untrue but they harkened back to a time he did not wish to revisit.

*well aren't you just a little genius, boy?" Cruel laughter. The sound of leather against flesh*

"SHUT UP!" Jim screamed almost losing his grip on the gun as he convulsed with after effects of the unwanted memory. The first he'd had in years.

"Jim?" Sherlock looked a picture of apprehension, worry drawn along his brow, Cupid bow lips set in a nervous line.

"Soorrrrry, it's a little jumbled up here," Jim said, tapping the gun to his head, "it'll be sooooo nice when it's quiet"

"I know. It gets loud in my head too, but you don't have to do this" Sherlock was closing the gap slowly, a lion tamer cornering the beast.

"What do you care? You've got your pet, now you can go away!" Jim was shouting himself horse, body shaking in fear of its oncoming doom. Unbeknownst to him Sherlock was reaching into his pocket and texting his brother the 13th and last escape code word.

Redbeard-SH

"I'm sorry Jim but John was never the pet I wanted" Sherlock reached for the gun whilst throwing his phone off the side of the building to distract the suicidal man.

"No!" The madman screamed, "Give it back!"

"You will not end your life James, it is too precious!" Voice booming, Sherlock had drawn himself up to his full height. Towering above him, the detective looked menacingly down onto Jim who had shied away in fright when more memories were triggered by the use of his name.

*Oi look! It's James with the brains!  
What's it like with that big head of yours? It looks ugly!  
No that's just his face! Hah!*

"STOP!" Sherlock had thrown the gun across the roof and Jim would have leapt for it had the man not been holding onto his shoulders in a punishing grip.

"When I was twelve years old I read about the murder of a child in the newspapers" he was speaking so quickly it took focus for Jim to keep up with his tirade. "The shoes were never found Jim! That was you! So young but so smart, you said he laughed at you but you stopped him! That was fantastic and all you. I said before, John was never the pet I wanted, ever since I was a boy and lost my dog I've wanted another one, but not a stupid one that got itself killed by a car! I wanted a smart one that would live as long as me, then I saw the papers and realised whoever killed that swimmer must be a genius like me! And of course with a motive like that how could I resist?" Sherlock was nearly frantic now and Jim had lost any semblance of what he was saying.

"Sherlock stop! What the hell are you talking about?" 

The rambling man paused and looked at Jim, "Oh, I'm going to miss that voice, maybe I'll give it back when you have nicer things to say" he smiled down and with one sweeping motion spun Jim around so his back was to the street and opposite buildings, where Mycroft's snipers lay in wait. "Sleep well"

"Sherlock wh- Ow!" Jim's hand shot to his neck where a dart was stuck. He vision started to tunnel and black faded around the edges. He felt Sherlock pick up his body but could do nothing about it as his limbs flopped uselessly. He tried to speak, to scream in rage, but all that came out was a pathetic, broken whimper.

"Shhh, shhhh" his carrier cooed " I've got you, just go to sleep, there's a good boy." As Jim's head fell against Sherlock's broad chest he thought, hazily, about how nice that sounded. Then everything faded to black.

 

Sherlock carried Jim's lifeless body to the stairwell of the roof where Mycroft's men were waiting to escort him to a hospital room for Jim's surgery.

"This way, sir"

As he was lead through the building he couldn't help staring in fascination at Jim's sleeping form, cradled against his body and even nuzzling in slightly to his chest. He couldn't keep the words in even if he wanted to.

"That's right, sleep puppy. When you wake up you'll have a lot to learn but I know that you're smart enough to do good. And you will do so good puppy, you're a good, clever dog." Almost as if Jim heard the gentle words he snuggled in closer to Sherlock's chest, letting out small, contented huffing sounds as he sniffed at the cloth of shirt and, in essence, Sherlock.

"Such a good puppy"

"We're here, sir" the guard stood outside the surgery door holding it open for Sherlock to enter with his precious bounty. He set Jim down on the table and turned to the surgeon at hand, "Tell me again what's going to happen"

"I'm going to shorten both of the Achilles' tendons so he can't stand, then permanently curl the hands into paws using the same method. I will add some silicone padding to the knees and heels of his hands to prevent discomfort and then finally add your brothers collar." It was said with the quick efficiency of any man on Mycroft's payroll.

"And what does the collar do?" Sherlock was intrigued with the work it took to make a human into a dog, but it's what he had dreamed about since a young age so he was well prepared. 

"Essentially it removes the ability to use the tongue in any motion for speech, but he is able to lap up water and food. It also adjusts the vocal chords to create more canine sounds when they are put into use" before Sherlock had the chance to ask the surgeon said, "Sounds such as barking, howling, whining and growling. It also administers a drug to the brain that gives Jim the feelings of a newborn pup; light and nose sensitivity, jaw aches etcetera."

"No other sounds?" Sherlock asked in awe.

"None, but when you remove the collar the ability will return."

"Right, well then carry on." The surgeon nodded and Sherlock was led to the viewing room as nurses and surgeons flooded around Jim to get the operation started.

"Good luck, puppy"

 

 

Jim woke slowly to the fluorescent pink of his inner eyelids, he was curled on a mattress with a blanket over his shoulders, the lights were too bright. He curled inwards more and tried to moan at the invasion, what came out was a high pitched whine that was unfamiliar to his ears.

"Hello there, puppy"

Jim's eyes snapped open and immediately slammed shut again, more whimpering followed as he tried hiding his eyes from the harsh light with his forearm.

"Oh! I'm sorry puppy, let me just dim the lights" Sherlock did what he said but the whimpering still continued.

Jim remembered what had happened on the roof but was not happy that he did, he was supposed to be DEAD! Why was he in a hospital bed? Why was Sherlock here? And why, in God's name, did he keep calling him puppy!

Jim opened his mouth to ask these questions but his tongue would not cooperate, and the whining noises kept coming. Starting to panic now, Jim tried to push himself up to sitting but his hands wouldn't uncurl, looking down he saw the crude half-fists they were stuck in. He tried to uncurl them on the bed but they stayed in position.

"Jim, it's okay" Sherlock attempted to sooth his puppy's thrashing but all it did was cause Jim to panic more.

He tried to kick his legs out of the bed and stand but he crumpled to the floor as a flashing pain came from his ankles.

"Jim!" Sherlock ran forward but the panicking man twisted away on the floor, now making whistling noises of pain. The detective knelt down next to Jim, jabbed his chin and smacked his nose sharply. 

The pain, Jim thought, wasn't debilitating but it shocked him enough to stop struggling and look up at Sherlock. The tall man was staring down at him with a mixture of care and fond annoyance on his face.

"Are you going to stop struggling now, puppy?" Jim just stared at him in complete bewilderment, he was so shocked that he didn't even put up a fight when Sherlock picked him up and placed him on the bed again, his legs automatically curled into his side and he found he couldn't stretch them without encountering pain again.

"You've been asleep a long time, puppy. We thought it best that you heal from the surgery before you woke up so you didn't hurt yourself."

Jim was just staring at his hands, they looked atrocious and there appeared to be some sort of padding under his skin, he nudged it with the tip of his other curled hand. Bouncy.

"What are you doing with your paws there puppy?" Jim's head snapped up at that. Paws? What the hell?

Sherlock was sat in a chair next to Jim's bed, leaning forward to pierce Jim's gaze with his. 

"Oh, I should probably explain. You're now my puppy, you've had surgery so you can't walk on two legs, only on four. You've been given paws and a collar that stops you from speaking and gives you a drug so you have canine characteristics. You will live with me at Baker Street and be happy with your life." It was all said with such gentle joy that all Jim could do was blink and shake his head. "Of course you won't be happy now and you will have a lot of lessons to learn but let's just get you home shall we?"

Sherlock produced a long lead from his coat that was hanging on the door, as he stepped forward Jim was startled to hear a low rumbling coming from his throat, almost akin to-

"Growling at me puppy?" Sherlock chuckled as he approached, Jim snapped out at his hand trying to do damage to the violinists fingers. Quick as a flash Sherlock moved to slap Jim's nose, "Bad dog!" Sherlock shouted at him finger pointed at his face "That was very bad James never do that again!" Almost as if he couldn't help it, Jim's head ducked low to his chest, big, sad brown eyes blinking through lashes fixed on Sherlock and to top the whole sorry charade off, a small whimpering came from his mouth.~sorry, I'm sorry~

"I'll let it slide this once but never again understand?" Jim huffed out a breath of surrender, utterly appalled at his earlier behaviour he just sat in bed and let his head be manoeuvred by Sherlock to attach the lead to his collar.

"There we are. That wasn't so bad was it puppy?" Sherlock asked, Jim answered by giving another irritated huff of breath whilst staring stubbornly at the opposite wall. "Sulking now are we? That's usually my trick." Sherlock laughed softly "Right, down you go." With that he picked Jim up and settled him on his knees on the floor. Jim was surprised to find that it didn't hurt and then later deduced that he probably had the same padding in his knees that he had in his hands.

Sherlock crouched in front of his face, "Now Jim you're to have to crawl, I don't imagine you've done such a thing since you were a child so we're going to have a little practice before you go outside."

Outside? Jim's gaze flittered to the door, anyone could be out there! It was bad enough that Sherlock see him on his knees but no one else! As if reading his mind Sherlock said "There is no one out there puppy, just you and me, okay? Now put your hands out and start to walk." Jim did as instructed grudgingly, he found that he was clumsy and unsure but with time he discovered how to roll his weight through his hands and time his movements so he moved somewhat steadily.

"Very good, puppy!" Sherlock proclaimed as he crouched again in front of Jim, only this time he reached up a hand to scratch behind Jim's ear.

Pleasure shooted along Jim's spine and he could do nothing but lean into the touch of Sherlock's long fingers and huff excitedly. Sherlock chuckled when he saw Jim's expression of utter bliss, eyelids closed and mouth hanging open as his tongue lolled out, his hips were swivelling madly from side to side. As if he were wagging a phantom tail.~good, so good! Don't stop, never stop~

When Sherlock withdrew his hand Jim chased it with a whine, only when he caught himself did his hips stop. He looked at Sherlock in surprise and felt utterly disgusted at his own actions, he was too blinded by rage to understand that the collar had made him sensitive to affectionate touches.

Sherlock ignored Jim's inner turmoil "Come along puppy, let's get you home." As he began walking he tugged gently on the leash to get Jim to move. They walked slowly through the sterile hospital and to the back entrance where the car was waiting. As soon as Sherlock opened the door Jim stiffened and started to retreat, Sherlock grumbled angrily and tugged on the lead, it was only until he heard the sneezes did he turn back.

Jim had backed himself as far into the hospital wall as possible and was pawing at his nose erratically, shaking his head, his eyes were slammed shut and leaking tears. He couldn't stop sneezing. 

When Sherlock had opened the door an avalanche of scent had invaded Jim's nose, it was all too much to decipher and too strong to shut out, he tried to wipe the smell away with his hand but it wouldn't leave, it had got so bad that he started sneezing to clear his airways but every breath choked him. Sherlock slammed the door closed but it was too late, the scents had been let in and they weren't leaving his nose! Suddenly cloth was wrapped around his face and only one scent prevailed. Sherlock. The rich umber of his cologne mixed with the warm scent that came from him alone flooded his senses, making him relax and steady his breathing. When he opened his eyes he saw Sherlock kneeling in front of him with a worried look on his face.

"I'm sorry puppy, I should have known your senses would increase. That was probably very upsetting for you." If Jim had been in a better mindset he would have glared at Sherlock, as it was all he could do was blink lazily and nudge his chin with the back of his head.~thank you, I forgive you, thank you~ Jim was even about to try and lick his neck when he caught himself and withdrew, blushing furiously. 

Sherlock chuckled and stood up but not before patting Jim's head, which made his whole body tingle. "Let's try this again shall we?" He asked, walking to the back door for a second time, "Ready?" All Jim could do was blink slowly up at him, still drowning in the scent of his scarf.

Sherlock opened the door and walked out into the back alley, Jim followed. The smells were virtually gone in the place of Sherlock's all-incompassing scent. The padding was doing its work, Sherlock thought, as Jim walked lazily behind him with no complaints of the rough cement pavement. They covered the short distance to the waiting car and Sherlock helped Jim into the back seats spacious floor, he then followed to sit on the car seat. Closing the door behind him he tapped on the window separating the front and back to signal the driver to move. 

Jim was still wearing the scarf around his face, unable to remove it even if he so desired. Which he didn't. Curling onto his side on the floor he leant his face on Sherlock's outstretched leg and promptly fell asleep.

Sherlock watched the movements with wonder. Here he was, Jim Moriarty, a criminal mastermind, dozing on Sherlock's leg whilst breathing in his scent through his scarf!  
It was all Sherlock had ever dreamed of and now it was true! "Good boy" he murmured, stroking through Jim's dark hair, making the pup sigh happily.

 

Jim was starting to get really sick of waking up in unfamiliar places. He was actually getting sick of Sherlock's entire game. That's what it is, he thought, just another stupid game to play. God he was sick of them!

Sherlock had clearly carried him up the steps of the flat when he was asleep and removed the scarf in the process. Now he was curled up in front of a blazing fire, in the unfamiliar living room, wearing nothing but a t-shirt and boxers. Oh, and the damned collar. He could easily hear the discussion going on downstairs, which was unexpected. Silver linings.

"So this is what you've been doing for the past month!"

"If you were wondering about my whereabouts you should have just asked, I would have happily told you." 

"Happily told m- No, Sherlock, Moriarty is not staying here!"

"He's not Moriarty anymore! Just a puppy, my puppy! Anyway I thought you said you'd be happy when we got Jim off the streets."

"Into jail Sherlock! Not into my flat!" Jim sensed a repetitive pattern emerging and could not be bothered to listen to it any longer, he tactfully chose that time to roll onto his other side with a Thunk! The bickering stopped.

"Oh hell, he's awake" the pair began to ascend the the staircase.

"I don't know why you dislike him, John, he saved you're life" Sherlock mumbled.

"Yeah, after he endangered it!" Sherlock's flat mate replied stepping into the room.

"Details... Hello puppy! You look very cosy there" what Jim looked like, in fact, was frosty. As he stared coolly at pair from the floor not even bothering to lift his head. Sherlock came to sit cross legged by him, "Now time for the boring bit about house rules, John insists."

"Hang on a minute, we haven't even decided that he's staying!" John cried, almost hysterically, he did not like the look Jim was giving him.

"Oh, of course he's staying. Look at how cute he is." At that Jim started growling again. "Hush," Sherlock chuckled "now where was I? Oh yes, house rules. You already know about the biting." Jim stopped growling, "I see you do. What else? No ruining my things, always eat and drink what's in your bowl, no messing on the floor, every other day I'll give you a bath and change your clothes. When you need the toilet sit outside the bathroom and bark to get my attention then I'll come and sort you out. You will either sleep here or in my room on the dog basket, what else?" At John's pointed look he added. "Stay away from John's room and his stuff, I don't know why it's important to him, most of it is rubbish."

"Sherlock!"

Jim was staring in horror at the detective sitting next to him, surely he couldn't expect Jim to live that way. Sherlock saw the terror in his gaze and leant forward to stroke his curled back.

Jim gasped, a warm feeling swept into every vein. His eyes half closed in pleasure and his mouth opened to allow him to pant in sensation, John was saying something but it was lost to Jim, who had now moved round to nuzzle into Sherlock's knee. The strokes kept on coming and he could do nothing to stop himself wriggling his hips and bouncing his leg on the floor. Sherlock's voice came from above, like the omnipotent being Jim believed him to be at that moment.

"Whose a good puppy? Are you going to follow the rules and be well behaved Jim? Are you going to be a good dog?" The hand moved up to scratch behind his ear, sending Jim's body convulsing in the heavenly touch. His eyes were now fully closed and drool was starting to pool from his tongue.~yes I'll be good! Please don't stop! I'll be good! Thank you Master, thank you!~ with that, Jim let out a broken howl and shuddered as blinding pleasure enveloped him. 

He was vaguely aware of Sherlock finishing his petting but was to blissed out to do anything than pant and stare with glazed eyes at the floor.

"Did he just orgasm?" John asked in equal parts intrigue and disgust. Jim felt Sherlock pull at his pants but couldn't care to stop him, he just sighed happily and shifted to give Sherlock easier access.

"Yes, he did" Sherlock's voice was definitely filled with curiosity, "but I don't think it was sexual, just an over abundance of pleasure with nowhere to go, I'm sure he'll grow out of it when the feeling is not as new."

Jim really hoped not.

 

"And you can't change him back?" John asked with and exhausted sigh.

"What? Mm no." Sherlock was getting distracted by Jim again, trying to find pressure points for manipulation in the future. The curled man on the floor could only twitch his paws-what? No! HANDS- in response as the warm feelings covered him again.

John watched all of this with defeat, "Fine, you can keep him." Once Sherlock got a thought into his head he was never going to let it go, John knew. "But you're doing all the training!"

"Of course, thank you John." Sherlock said it with such honestly that John was taken aback. As he stood up to leave he said dryly, "Yeah, yeah just remember a puppy's not just for Christmas." John left the flat to Sherlock's confused, "But it's nowhere near Christmas!"

Jim was starting to get tired again but clearly Sherlock had other ideas, "Come on pup, let's get you a change of clothes and then maybe something to eat and drink hmm? You must be hungry." Now that he said it Jim realised he was ravenous, but that didn't stop him from whining in complaint when he dragged himself up onto all fours.

It was then that he noticed the smell. Sherlock had already moved down the hall so Jim thought, sneakily, that he had time to investigate. All around the living room were scents of Sherlock and John. A low warm, umber for the detective that was mixed with tobacco, and for the doctor a clean scent that was enhanced with flavours of, tea? Yes, definitely tea. Jim moved around the room sticking his head into the sofa and inhaled deeply, Sherlock more than John. He moved to the red armchair, the scent of tea exploded in his nose, this was John's chair then.

"Come on puppy, what's taking so long?" Sherlock came back into the room to find his puppy crawling around around the space, sniffing erratically and dragging his body along objects. Jim was so enthralled with the new smells that he completely forgot Sherlock. That was, until, he found the chair.

Sherlock's rich scent encased him so completely that he was helpless from circling the sleek, grey armchair whilst inhaling noisily. Jim actually put his hands on the seat of the chair so he could stretch his head forward and sniff where the purest scent came from. His hips were shaking with such vigour that he had to spread his legs to keep from falling. 

Sherlock watched from the doorway as Jim wiped his cheek and neck all over the back and arms of the chair, he only stepped in when Jim started to lift his leg.

"No Jim!" Sherlock shouted as he tugged Jim back from the chair by the collar, causing him to scrabble with his front paws before falling on his back, legs in the air. Sherlock stood over the wheezing man, making Jim cringe slightly in fright at the look of rage on his face. "What did I say about messing on the floor! If I hadn't pulled you back you would pissed all over my chair. Bad dog!" Sherlock stated as he leant down and tapped Jim over the nose. 

To Jim it felt like a slap, as he recoiled the wheezing gasps of air turned in small whimpers.~sorry Master, I didn't mean it. Sorry~ Wait, Master? Jim was appalled at the word, he turned to his knees and fixed Sherlock with a look of utter contempt, to which the reply was another slap on the nose. Jim instinctively ducked his head and wiped at his nose with his paw, whinging even louder now. 

A sigh, "You deserved that Jim and you know it. Now come on, you'll have more time to explore later." Sherlock lead Jim to his bedroom and Jim followed with a lowered head, huffing sadly to himself. 

Once in the bedroom Sherlock changed Jim's clothes and wiped him up clinically, all this he endured without movement as he still felt sorry for himself. When in the kitchen, Sherlock set down a bowl of water for Jim to messily slobber over as he tried to lap it up. "Use your tongue in a sweeping movement, puppy." He encouraged, Jim listened to the advice and was able to finish the bowl with virtually no overspill.

Sherlock returned to the living room and motioned for Jim to follow, there he sat down on his seat and produced a packet of crackers from the side table. "You're going to have to eat these slowly Jim, your stomach is unused to food." Jim crept forward hesitantly until he was stationed between Sherlock's legs, looking up in apprehension at the piercing blue eyes. The detective took out a cracker and crumbled it into bite sized chunks, he outstretched his hand and said, "Nice and slow now, good boy."

Jim was already salivating in the promise of food, he moved his head forward to sniff at the offered palm before licking up the pieces, his jaw worked and he had to dip his head low to keep the tasty morsel in his mouth. He ate slowly as instructed and managed another 5 crackers before turning his head away in clear refusal. 

"Good puppy, that was very good." Sherlock reached out a hand to slowly caress Jim's forehead and hair, lips parted in pleasure, he leaned into the touch. It was a soothing sensation and he soon found himself dropping his heavy head on Sherlock's thigh, Jim snuggled closer into the enticing smell and curled inwards. "That can't be very comfortable," Sherlock observed "let's get you up here." He reached under Jim's arms and pulled him up onto his lap. Jim yipped happily and moved his nose into Sherlock's neck, effectively leaning his head on the detective's shoulder. 

"That's a good boy." Sherlock cooed as he stroked the nape of Jim's neck, "Just go to sleep." And he did, just laying there curled up on his Master's lap, with a soft smile on his face as he felt truly safe, the first time in a long time.

 

*  
"James! What the hell are you doing in there? Get out!"  
Big hands invaded his safe space pulling him out into the kitchen. No. That didn't make sense, the small linen closet where James used to hide was in the bathroom on the second floor.  
"Your Mammy said you were being clever again!"  
They were in the garden now, that was wrong too, there was no back exit from the kitchen.  
"Please Da, I'm sorry, I didn't mea-"  
James went tumbling into the grass, recoiling from the punch. He screamed but was quickly shut up when those big farmers hands closed around his neck.  
"You are not to be smart in this house, boy! I am the one who knows best! You are a child James, just a stupid little boy!"  
The hands were shaking him now, cutting off his air. James was making breathless whining noises. No. That's not what happened. James used to go limp and suffer his Da's rage quietly.  
"Puppy! Wake up!"  
That was wrong to, James thought.  
*

Jim's eyes snapped open as his body twisted manically out of Sherlock's grip. He landed painfully on the floor but would not stop moving, looking around erratically, he spotted the table between the two windows and leapt under it. Pushing himself far into the wall and making himself as small as possible. Pained whining noises escaped from his throat, he tried to muffle them with his paw but they just came louder than before. Tears streamed from his wide eyes and he couldn't contain the sobs as his Da's feet came closer.

Sherlock's face popped into view beneath the table, "Puppy? It's okay, it was just a dream." But Jim couldn't stop crying, he looked at Sherlock's worried face and cried even harder. No one had ever looked at him that way, like they actually cared.

He slowly crawled out from underneath the table and into his Master's waiting arms, later he would curse himself for his weakness but for now he just needed comfort. "Hey there puppy, it's alright. Shhh, shhhh, just calm down. There's a good boy." Sherlock had manoeuvred Jim onto his knees and was rocking him slowly, Jim's head was tucked into his chest and Sherlock was stroking his back with long sweeps.

They stayed like that on the floor for 10 minutes, by that time Jim's whines had decreased in volume and he had stopped trembling in fear. Sherlock drew back to get a good look at his face; Jim's cheeks had tear tracks flowing down them and his bottom lip was shaking slightly but his eyes made Sherlock gasp. The brown irises portrayed so much pain, they flittered around anywhere but Sherlock's gaze until he gently grasped Jim's chin and their eyes met. Jim was pinned under the analysing stare of the great Sherlock Holmes, a place many of his clients had been before. It was terrifying.

"You had a nightmare, that was obvious from the whimpers you were making but when you woke up they didn't stop. The panicked movements were similar to the ones you made on the roof. So, flashback then. You're crying so clearly you went back to your childhood, an adult as stubborn as you would never cry in the face of fear. After you fell you continued moving, didn't even register the pain, the main priority was to hide. You were running from something, no, SOMEONE. The pain was tolerated, someone who abused you. As a child. You made yourself small and unassuming instinctively, this shows that such behaviour was normal for you, so you were constantly around this person and wanted to please them. No, not please. Appease. You even tried to silence yourself. So, family member that you lived with, you were constantly in fear. Father." Jim had started shaking again, he fought to get out of Sherlock's grip. He couldn't deal with this, he couldn't have his long forgotten childhood shoved back into the present. Sherlock had not stopped talking, not even noticing his puppy's distress.

"But what about your mother where was she? Oh, oh! That's it! She hurt you too! They both did but why. Think, think! Yes! You were too smart for their tastes, a small Irish boy displaying unique qualities, no, they couldn't have that. You couldn't be clever!" Sherlock was broken out of his rant by Jim's sorrowful howl, the words had pushed him too far and he was now doing everything he could to get loose and run to safety. He lashed out blindly at Sherlock, biting everything he came into contact with. Sherlock let him go in shock but Jim tried to stand on two legs, he came crashing down onto the floor as searing pain shot up his legs. He retreated back under the table and started attacking his right paw in madness. The pain cleared his mind but not as much as Sherlock's slap on his nose.

"What the hell Jim? What did I say about biting? Bad dog! You are a very bad boy!" Sherlock left to nurse his injuries whilst Jim curled onto his side, facing the wall. The self-loathing was crippling~Bad, I'm bad, stupid. STUPID! Just a small, stupid little boy.~ Jim bit down on his mauled paw in an effort to lessen the heartache he felt but it just made the pain real. The noises he made were terrible even for a dog, choking howls of hate interlaced with constant whistling whines of pain. 

When Sherlock came back to the room he couldn't ignore the sounds, reaching under the table he pulled the still form of Jim out. "Oh puppy, what have you done to yourself?" Jim was still chewing on the mess of his hand, seemingly unaware of the blood covering it. "Jim stop!" The devastated man did as he was told but could not be persuaded to stop howling. 

"Oh puppy, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said all that in front of you. I know that you didn't mean to lash out, I forgive you." Sherlock had knelt next to Jim's prone figure and was carding his fingers through the pups hair, the ghastly noises had abated but Jim was still unmoving. Sherlock picked Jim up and took him into the bathroom, his puppy sneezed at the smell of ammonia and cleaning fluid. 

"I am upset that you hurt yourself puppy, but I understand why you did it." Jim looked up at that, he didn't realise that making his Master unhappy could make him feel so rough. The whimpers started again.

Almost as if Sherlock could read his thoughts he hastened to add, "It's okay Jim, I'm fine but I need you to promise never to hurt yourself again." Jim rushed to bark the affirmative, he didn't want to make his Master sad, ever. "Good boy, now let's take care of this paw." Jim had been set on his padded knees in the bath, he was smiling when Sherlock went to get the antiseptic wipes and bandages. He didn't even whine at the sting on his bare flesh, trusting that his Master wouldn't hurt him. 

By the time Sherlock had finished John had returned, the doctor fiddled with the bandages under Jim's watchful gaze, the pup still wasn't sure about him yet. Sherlock fed him some more crackers and gave him another bowl of water. Jim then settled himself in front of the fire and around Sherlock's legs as the two flat mates sat and talked.

"He appears to be in a much better mood." John said, whilst looking at the dozing puppy resting it's head on Sherlock's calf. The detective was absentmindedly stroking the top of Jim's head, making him huff in contentment.

"Yes well, we broke down a few barriers today, he's just getting adjusted." 

"Barriers?" John asked curiously.

Sherlock waved his hand in front of Jim's face to check that he had gone to sleep, when the puppy didn't react, Sherlock replied. "Jim had a nightmare today, he woke up to a flashback of his childhood. Apparently he was seriously abused by his parents for showing signs of intelligence from a young age."

John was looking at Jim's sleeping form in sympathy. "The bandage?" He enquired.

"A fit of madness brought on from the flashbacks, he went rabid." 

"Jesus. Well I now understand why he's so tired." John leant forward and raised a hand to pat Jim's head. 

The puppy's eyes snapped open at the unfamiliar touch, but he still felt his Masters presence so he did not immediately lash out. When he saw that the hand petting him belonged to the doctor he went to withdraw. Of course that was the point when the hand moved behind his ear. 

Jim's head dropped in sensation, leaning in to the touch while his whole body thrummed in pleasure. His hips started gyrating where he was sat next to Sherlock's leg. 

"He really likes this doesn't he?" John asked with a smile, continuing with his ministrations as Jim huffed excitedly. Sherlock moved so Jim melted into the floor, John followed him down to keep petting him. Sherlock knelt next to John as well and began stroking his puppy's back. The sensory overload was nearly too much for Jim, he was shaking on the floor when Sherlock replied.

"Yes, but I have yet to see what his reaction is when I do this." With those words, Sherlock reached around Jim's body and began to scratch his stomach. The response was instantaneous. Jim rolled onto his back, paws in the air, and started howling in pure pleasure. Eyes shut and tongue hanging out, his body convulsed in the heat of Sherlock's touch. ~Yes! Thank you Master! Don't stop, thank you!~

It was only until after Sherlock stopped that Jim's came down off the high of bliss. Dropping onto his side Jim's paws spasmed randomly, the rest of his body was jelly. He continued his heavy sighing, inhaling Sherlock's scent that wrapped around him like a blanket.

"Did he just cum again?" John asked, a hint of mischief to his tone.

"Definitely." Stated Sherlock without even needing to look, the puppy's exhausted form was telling enough. "Come on puppy, let's get you to bed." He picked Jim up, whose head curled into his neck as his paws scrabbled harmlessly on the detective's chest. He said goodnight to John before carrying Jim into his bedroom, he set him into the large dog basket and pulled an old blanket over the already sleeping form.

"Such a good puppy, you did so well today. My good, clever dog." 

 

The weeks passed quickly after that, Jim grew more trusting of Sherlock and John. He became deeply submerged in his new life as a puppy, he would even go so far as to say that he preferred this life to his old, boring one. Jim thought that he could let the past go and be truly happy as Sherlock's dog. That was until Mycroft came to visit.

 

"Brother-dear! It's been too long, and I see your new pet has settled in nicely." Sherlock didn't bother to get up from where he was sprawled on the long settee, Jim was curled up happily on the floor by his side. A lone, sleep filled eye blinked up to greet his Master's brother.

"Mycroft."

"I'll just let myself in then shall I?" The older man said with a tight lipped smile, settling down into John's chair. The doctor was absent today, meeting up with a new girlfriend.

"Well seen as you weren't actually invited I'm hardly going to throw a parade." Sherlock's hand dropped onto Jim's head where he proceeded to lazily stroke down and up the puppy's back. "What do you want Mycroft? And don't say you came to see me because we both know by the state of your suit that you rushed, you never rush to see me."

"How astute Sherlock." Mycroft responded dryly, straightening out his bespoke suit. "I've come to ask Jim some questions, we've exhausted the data on his phone and we are close to dismantling a prominent terrorist network stationed in the Middle East." At the mention of his name, Jim had lifted his head to pay attention, now he was staring at Sherlock in bewilderment. He didn't remember anything about a terrorist network, and even if he did, it wasn't like he could talk.

Sherlock easily picked up on this. He laughed pulling himself up from the sofa, "Clearly he doesn't know what you're talking about, and unless you're planning on speaking dog I suggest you leave and do real work. Instead of relying on an ex-criminals old data." With that Sherlock left, heading to his bedroom. Jim made to follow but was intercepted by Mycroft looming over him.

"Forgive me if I do not believe my brother." Jim was backing away in fear but his oppressor darted out to grab his chin, the puppy went deathly still in apprehension of the oncoming slap he had been conditioned to expect. However, Mycroft reached around Jim's neck to unclasp, then yank the collar away.

Jim howled in pain as the device securing his vocal cords was ripped away, or at least he tried to howl. What came was more of a strangled gasp. The puppy collapsed on the floor as a viscous coughing fit consumed his whole body. Sherlock had heard the noise as he came storming back into the room.

"Mycroft what the hell are you playin- Jim!" He rushed towards the trembling figure as another fit left him gasping for breath.

"I need this information Sherlock." Mycroft stated coolly as he stood by the door spinning the collar in his fingers. "Ask your pet where the terrorist headquarters are stationed."

Sherlock fixed his brother with a stare so menacing that it made the older man recoil a step. "Get out now Mycroft, before I throw you out." 

"Sherlock, the information." Mycroft prompted, unable to take a hint.

"I will get you your damned information Mycroft, now LEAVE!" Sherlock bellowed the last word making the pained man on the floor whimper in fright. Mycroft nodded in understanding and left the flat, collar still in hand. Sherlock would be unable to put it back on anyway, he thought.

Upstairs Sherlock had knelt next to Jim rubbing his back soothingly as the last weak coughs left his system. "Puppy, are you okay?" He inquired worriedly, a tear stained face looked up to meet him. 

"Mm...Master?" Jim's voice was slightly husky from the coughing but that couldn't hide the confused tone to his voice. Why has this happened? What did he do wrong? 

Sherlock was shocked at the word but ultimately delight enveloped him. He heard the pain and confusion, wanting to sooth his puppy Sherlock wrapped him in a bear hug. "It's okay puppy, you did nothing wrong. You're such a good boy, my clever pup." Jim's hips started moving under Sherlock's grip, he was smiling with pride at his Master. He became a little overwhelmed by the attention, licking at Sherlock's neck whilst babbling incessantly.

"Thank you Master, love you. Love you so much. You're my favourite person, ever. So kind and smart and clever and always, always right." It was said with the adoration of worship, Jim's honest gaze never left Sherlock's and all the detective could do was grin in elation. He had always dreamed of a dog and now he had one. 

"I love you to, puppy."

**Author's Note:**

> If you like this work be sure to give kudos! I get a kick out of it, more so than writing this abomination of morality ;)


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